


for now you're a scan of my unmade plans

by babykanima



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Other, POV Outsider, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykanima/pseuds/babykanima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell the people why we're here, babe.” S half-orders-half-pleads from behind the camera.</p><p>You watch the shaky footage of D smiling at his husband from over his shoulder and grin (actually grin, not quirk his lips or smirk) at the video, practically vibrating in your own excitement yourself. “We're getting our baby!”</p><p>S turns the camera to face himself, “We're getting our baby!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	for now you're a scan of my unmade plans

**Author's Note:**

> so i basically did this instead of two essays i needed to write for school. sorry not sorry!

You're fifteen and stupid and so in love it's making you crazy.

You're meant to be at home watching your little brother because your mama is on the night shift at the diner and your dad left twelve years ago so who else is going to look after the little dweeb?

You're a smart girl, smartest in your grade, but he makes you feel so stupid.

It's beautiful.

You _feel_ beautiful.

You feel _everything_.

“I want to be dangerous.” You breathe into the mouth of the boy sitting in the car you're barely old enough to drive, “I want to be _catastrophic_.”

You don't, not really. You just want to be different than what you are.

Your town is small, not small enough that everybody knows everybody else like some Brady Bunch movie reject, but small enough that you've felt suffocated more than once. You can't breathe here, in this tiny town, in this tiny life. You're meant for more, you'd told him on your first kind-of date. He'd told you he believed you. You and your brother have a deal to keep this quiet and the twenty dollars you're out of pocket is _so worth it._

“Catastrophic?” He whispers back, a grin on his beautiful face. “Big word there, sweetheart.”

“Well,” You tell him seriously, “I am _fantastic_ at crosswords.”

After that, there's no more words.

* * *

You're only fifteen when you break your mother's heart for the first time in the back of a car belonging to a boy five years older than you, but you're sixteen when everybody finds out.

The doctor is factual and cold and judgement free and you've never been more thankful of anything in your whole life.

Your mama sits next to you with her purse in her lap and her back ramrod straight as she talks about options over your head like you're not the one gestating an alien in your stomach and you don't say anything until the word _termination_ is mentioned.

“No.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I'm not going to terminate it.” You tell the doctor, ignoring your mama for the first time in your life. “I'd like to keep my options open, if that's okay.” And he nods a little and hands you some pamphlets and that's that.

He's gone, your beautiful boy. Skipped town before you'd even realised you were pregnant and you still love him, will probably always love him. Your mama still loves your dad, even though he left her in the middle of the night without a backwards glance and you think it's the curse of your family, to love those who don't give a shit about you.

You knew he wasn't going to be here forever, _you_ wouldn't even be in this town if you could afford to leave, but well. Maybe you'd hoped you'd be enough for him to stay just a little longer. Apparently not.

You get home from the doctors office and ignore your pleading mama and walk straight past your annoying brother before going into your room. You feel like slamming the door even though there's nobody here you're angry at but in the end you close the door softly instead, because you're still a good girl at heart, aren't you? You fucked your entire life up majorly, but you're not the kind of person who slams doors.

Your dress is off in a snap and you're in front of your mirror, looking at your stomach with a detached sort of bemusement. You'd always been stupidly skinny, too-long legs and too-long arms, like you weren't finished growing even though you were 5'8 already and so the bump on your stomach stands out obscenely. It really does look like an alien, you think.

You knew he'd made you stupid, you just never thought he'd made you _this_ stupid.

You snap a photo with your phone and send it off without giving yourself time to think about it, _thought u should know._

You're not expecting a reply.

* * *

You're five months when you find the website and it's kind of really well done for a blog and it only takes a little digging before you figure out why; S is a web designer who does coding on the side (you only kind of know what that means b ut apparently it makes a lot of money). There's a lot of pictures and you're not going to lie, you'd clicked on this site originally because one of the pregnancy blogs you follow on Tumblr had mentioned the hot daddies-to-be and you'd gotten curious.

What? You're pregnant, not like, _dead_.

Your laptop is balanced on your bump and your feet are under your brother's butt as you watch television together. Your mama's on the night shift again and you didn't even have to promise to watch your brother because you've got no boy to kiss anymore and you don't feel like hanging out with your friends either. You look so big next to them, it's horrible.

You're both eating scrambled eggs because you'd had a craving and he'd joked that you'd make a good mom and you'd shoved a pillow in his face and you kind of missed this. He's a dweeb, but that's like, little brother law. They _have_ to be annoying.

“Look at this.” You tell him, turning the laptop around so he can see the screen, “They're trying to adopt a baby but I guess it's been pretty hard because they're both guys.”

“That sucks.” Your brother says around a mouthful of eggs and too-much bbq sauce, he's gonna make himself sick, “That shouldn't matter.”

“No, it shouldn't.” You agree and then turn the laptop around to hide your grin, because he makes you a little proud, your brother.

The website is simple and clean and has a very organised tagging system (“I have ADHD,” S shrugs self-deprecatingly as he reads out a complimentary comment somebody had left, “You're welcome.”) and you find yourself staying up hours after your brother goes to bed and your mama comes home and does the same and you fall asleep midway through a video of S surprising D with a birthday cake and a big kiss.

* * *

“Tell the people what you're doing today, babe.” S's reflection says as the video begins. On screen, D rolls his eyes and pointedly continues brushing his teeth while his husband grins and adjusts the camera, “Okay, _fine_. I'll tell them. D has a new job.”

D spits and S makes a face and you laugh loudly, the laptop jiggling a little on its place on your stomach.

D turns and grins, or as much as he grins anyway because you've discovered D's not much of a grinner in general but a quirk of the lips means a lot, you think (you also think it's possible you may have watched too many videos, if you're thinking about smile etiquette so seriously). “After you bugging me every day to do something, I kind of had to.”

S rolls his eyes, “Please, you were bored out of your mind and we both know it. Tell them where you're working.”

“I'm wearing a uniform.”

“Do it.”

“I have a _badge_.”

“Say it.”

“I also have a gun.” He says mock seriously and your grin matches S's.

“Well then I guess the people must be looking at the town's newest Deputy.” S says.

D's lips quirk,”I guess they must be.”

The camera turns off right before their lips touch.

* * *

School has never been hard for you and you find even with a basketball beneath your shirt that that hasn't changed. You're sitting in math, staring out the window, when you feel it for the first time and your pencil goes flying because _what the hell?_

The boy sitting next to you glares and you shrug apologetically as you retrieve the pencil that hit him in the shoulder. “Sorry.”

It happens again during lunch when you're sitting with your friends, and then on the bus home and so as soon as you get home you run into your room to strip down to your underwear and stare down at your stomach expectantly.

Nothing.

“Come on.” You tell it, “You'll do it in front of other people but not when we're alone?”

You give it a poke.

Your stomach remains still but you're patient. Google says sometimes the baby reacts to the mother's voice and how cool is that? “I know you're not asleep,” You say as you poke it again, “Come on, baby.”

“Please?”

You wait an hour before giving up to make dinner and you're in the middle of that when it happens. The spoon you were using to stir the spaghetti goes the same way as your pen but this time it's your mama that looks at you, “Baby?” She says in concern.

“Oh my god.”

“Baby, what is it?” She repeats, standing up from the table and coming towards you.

You're grinning down at your stomach and you can maybe feel some tears in your eyes, “Oh my _god_.”

Your head snaps up and you grab your mama's hand, pulling it into place right where the baby is kicking you. She smiles and laughs and you smile and laugh and next thing you know you're both crying and laughing and hugging and dinner is forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Your brother says and you pull him into the hug because, well, you're feeling generous with your love right now, “Why are you both so _weird_?” He moans.

You don't stop laughing and crying for hours.

* * *

They find somebody willing to give them their baby and you're so happy you cry. It's not a big deal, you cry a lot lately and your doctor says its completely normal because it's hormones or whatever, but you're just so _happy_ for them.

“Hello people.” S whispers from behind the camera, “Today I bring you 'D and the Great Ikea Adventure!' starring D and my best friend Scott.”

“Hey!” The new person says, affronted, “Why do you guys get letters but I get my actual name?”

S turns the camera to face himself and rolls his eyes, “Because,” He tells Scott and the audience, “My name already starts with 's' and we can't both be S.”

The camera pans to Scott who grins, “Oh, okay.” And then he goes back to reading the back of a box labelled 'Diaper Genie' (a brief Google search shows you it's something you want but could never afford and you stare longingly at the box on the screen).

The camera zooms to D who is staring at the instructions with a bewildered look on his face, “Need help, babe?”

He scowls, pushing the instructions aside and picking up a screwdriver before putting it down and picking up a different one. “No.”

“Okay.” S says breezily and appears to settle in for the show.

The video is forty minutes long and over the course of the footage you see a screwdriver being thrown at Scott's head, actual tears and an argument between S and D that ends in D sulkily holding the camera as S pulls apart everything he's spent the last however-long putting together.

You laugh so hard you nearly pee yourself, but its okay. Apparently that's normal too.

* * *

You wake in the middle of the night to agony going through your entire body and you think maybe you're dying.

You're seven months and the baby isn't even a little bit due and when you put your hand between your legs they come away bright red, so you scream for your mama because you're so _scared_.

You're only sixteen.

The doctor tells you it's okay but that you need to be more careful. He tells you it's time to leave school and stop dancing around your room and you sit there with your lip between your teeth because you thought you'd killed your baby.

Your mama holds you for hours as you sob into her lap and you don't know why you're crying so hard because everything is okay but you won't take your hand off your stomach and for the first time in months you wish you weren't alone in this.

* * *

“Tell the people why we're here, babe.” S half-orders-half-pleads from behind the camera.

You watch the shaky footage of D smiling at his husband from over his shoulder and grin ( _actually_ grin, not quirk his lips or smirk) at the video, practically vibrating in your own excitement yourself. You've set up camp on the couch and waved your family off to their job and class respectively and didn't feel even a little bit envious, not at all, nope. Who needs fresh air and human interaction? “We're getting our baby!”

S turns the camera to face himself, “We're getting our baby!”

The video ends there and it's the shortest one to date, it's also the most popular and you smile so wide your face feels like it's going to break.

You're surprised a few days later when an update alert interrupts your Walking Dead marathon.

It's just S alone this time, staring at the camera with a stiff sort of smile. “She changed her mind.” He says, like that's that. Like the girl they were going to get a baby from hadn't made a _promise_ , and they just _lost_ their baby and—

You stare in horror at the paused image of S sitting in the nursery you'd watched them paint and feel your heart breaking.

* * *

_Dear S and D_ _—_

_I'm so, so, so sorry I don't know what else to say. You probably don't care because of everything you're going through and it's kind of sad that it takes this sort of thing to give me the courage to even message you guys at all but well, I just wanted to say that I miss your videos!_

_I'm stuck on bed rest and your videos were the only thing capable of making me not feel bad for myself._

_Hope you feel better soon!_

_(jeez that's a shitty thing to say, I'm sorry)_

* * *

Your mama used to talk about how much like your dad you were, back when the pain was still fresh and she maybe still thought he'd come back. She used to smile wistfully when you talked about leaving town or buying a motorcycle. Over time, she'd just stopped talking about him and you think it's what was best for everybody involved. You didn't want to be like him and you didn't want to remind your mama of him.

Anyway, she used to say that once he got an idea in his head it was hard to get rid of it and you're not like him, honestly.

But you get this idea in your head.

Your brother is the one who puts it there when he finds you crying (again, ugh) over your laptop and casually walks over to see what the fuss was about this time.

“Well, that sucks.” He says emphatically when you're finished explaining the situation. “They totally deserved a baby.”

And that one sentence is enough to plant the seed.

It's surprisingly easy to figure out where they live because like he'd said months ago, it's written on D's uniform; Beacon Hills Police Department is only about a three days drive from where you live and you think maybe, maybe this was meant to happen.

Your mama comes home and you sit at the table and tell her your plan.

You're only sixteen but you're smart, smartest girl in your year in fact, but for all her crappy job in a crappy diner, your mama is smart too. And she loves you.

(That's the important bit)

She says okay. They'll try.

* * *

The drive ends up being almost a full week in the end because you keep needing to stop and pee or stop and eat or stop and argue with your little brother because it's boring sitting in a car for so long and _you both need the excitement, mama._

You spend each night in a motel and you feel bad, using up your mama's money like this but she just rolls her eyes at you when you apologise.

You start getting Braxton Hicks on the fifth day and cry a grand total of seven times and get asked nineteen times if you're sure but the thing is, the thing is you _are_.

You've watched hours of footage of S and D and you know you can't tell everything about a person from an edited video but you feel like you can tell enough.

They bought teddy bears and argued about names and kissed each other at least once in every video. They have friends they can count on; Scott and L and K and S's dad (who's a sheriff, how cool is that?). They have enough money for Ikea furniture and Diaper Genies.

Your baby could grow up happy with them.

You _know_ it.

* * *

Beacon Hills is greener than your town, where back home there's cornfields and dirt roads, here there's so many tree it's ridiculous. Its bigger too, more buildings than you've ever seen in one place at a time and you feel like you're in a big city even though you knows you're not.

Your mama stops in front of Beacon Hills Police Department and you all go quiet. You take a second to kind of just, breathe. Your Braxton Hicks have lasted longer than they normally do and you're kind of annoyed because _of course._ Then your mama gets out and comes around to help you out of the car too because eight and a half months means you're fat and your sense of gravity is wonky.

You walk (waddle) up to man on the front desk while your family parks the car and clear your throat, “I'm looking for somebody.” You tell him and that's it. That's all you've got.

You haven't really thought any further.

He smiles gently and you notice his nametag says Deputy Parrish,“Okay.” He says, “What sort of somebody? Do you need help?” And he hasn't looked down at your hand pressing on your bump in an attempt to stop the sharp shooting pains you're currently experiencing but you know what he means and you know what he thinks.

“No, I'm—” And you stop because there he is.

Outside of video footage, D looks tired. His scruff is slightly scruffier than usual and his eyes look pinched around the corners, like he's in pain and your heart breaks when you realise he _is_ in pain.

Because he's a dad without a baby.

You're shouting before you can think to stop, “D!”

And a few things happen all at once; D's head snaps in your direction and your mama and brother walk through the door behind you. Parrish's eyes light up and S's dad walks around a corner and none of any of that matter because your water chooses that moment to break.

“Ew, _gross_.” You and your brother say at the same time.

* * *

Okay look, the thing is labor sucks.

Like, it sucks _so badly._

* * *

Your baby is beautiful.

She has your nose and lips and her daddy's eyes and those beautiful dark caramel curls mixed babies sometimes get. Her skin is lighter than yours and your mama's and you hold her tiny hand in yours for the longest time after your mama goes to talk to the doctors.

S is the next person to poke their head in your room and you smile at him.

“I wasn't expecting to meet you guys this way, I'm gonna be honest.” You tell him and he grins that familiar grin, moving closer.

“Well you got me beat 'cause I wasn't expecting to ever meet you. I don't even know who you are.”

“I know, I'm being so creepy, I'm sorry.” You wince, holding your baby a little tighter. “I watch your videos online.”

He nods, “We figured, you know.” He waves a hand, “Calling out Derek's name right before exploding all over the floor.”

 _Derek_.

“His name is Derek?”

S grins, “Yep. And I'm Stiles.”

“Hi.” You say shyly. “I wrote to you, after your last video.”

He— _Stiles_ looks sad. “I haven't,” He clears his throat, “I haven't had a chance to read anything. We haven't been online.” His eyes fall on the baby and glisten a little and you totally get that. Crying's been your thing for like six months now.

You move the baby because she's surprisingly heavy, “It broke my heart.” You tell him matter-of-factly. “I couldn't _imagine._ ”

“Hey!” Stiles says in a panic when your eyes begin to well up with tears, “It's okay!”

“No it's not!” You snap. “She _promised_.”

He smiles sadly, reaching a hand across to you but stopping before he actually touched you, “Hey, she was just a kid and . . . and she didn't wanna do it alone. And then her boyfriend showed up and she wasn't alone. We get it. It hurt,” He swallows, “But we get it.”

“But that's why I came here.” You tell him earnestly. “I want you to have my baby.”

And then it gets quiet.

“What?”

“I'm sixteen.” You tell him, “And I _love_ her but I'm not ready to be a mom. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, actually, and I kind of love you guys too.” You're crying again. “Like, a lot. I have you guys bookmarked on my laptop and everything.”

You move the baby so she's facing him and his breath kind of catches in his throat, “I'm still on the good drugs,” You tell him, “But if you guys say yes, I want you to have her, okay? I wont change my mind.”

His hands reach for her almost unconsciously and you don't hesitate in handing her over. You watch with a hand against your heart as he carefully, oh so carefully, holds her exactly like Google told you she's meant to be held.

You don't know how long you sit there watching them before your mama pokes her head in, looks at you all and then disappears again. She returns with Derek who takes one look at his husband holding the baby and looks like he wants to run for the hills.

“Derek.” Stiles says softly, without looking away from the baby and you blush for some reason, like this is a thing you aren't meant to see. “Look at her.”

You can kind of tell the only reason Derek _hasn't_ run is because of Stiles and when his eyes meet yours, you grin and he blinks. “Come on.” You urge.

He steps forward and looks over Stiles' shoulder and his breath catches in his throat the exact same way his husbands did. “She looks like—”

“I know right?”

“If they—”

“I know!”

And they're smiling at each other even though Derek looks a little like he got punched in the solar plexus. “So do you want her?” You ask.

Derek's head snaps toward you and his mouth drops open, “What?”

Stiles on the other hand doesn't hesitate, “Hell yeah, we do.”

You smile again, eyes fluttering a little against the pull of sleep, “Cool.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> okay so if you couldn't guess the POV character (who never had a name, isn't that weird) gave birth to a beautiful baby who looks exactly like erica and boyd's baby could've looked like, which was what their reaction was aiming for. did i get that across? idk but it's 5:57am and i have work soon so i'm stopping.
> 
> come and [ visit me ](http://clintssecretfamily.tumblr.com/)


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